


water dripping

by caramelchameleon



Series: khunäöfaai - we know it can change [2]
Category: Nuclear Throne (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, don't eat the rat meat, light gore, the sewers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 14:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelchameleon/pseuds/caramelchameleon
Summary: Fish and Crystal aren't having the best of luck, but at least they're not this guy.





	water dripping

**Author's Note:**

> i have figured out where i want to go with this, but i have to get all these mutants in the same room and working together first, so bear with me. it won't quite be a strict retelling of the gameplay but it'll stick loosely to that script for a bit longer.

This dark maze of tunnels was no sun-warmed oasis, but neither was it the relentless furnace of the desert. As far as Fish could reckon out, so far he was mostly breaking even. The sewers (of what former city, there was no way to tell) had obviously lain disused for some time, and still reeked of mold, waste, and damp. The rounded tunnels lent themselves to odd acoustics, magnifying even small sounds into strange echoes. The only real source of light was the sickly, greenish glow of what might have been ordinary sewer water, once upon a time. The thick sludge oozed sluggishly through pipes, rusted through barrels, and puddled thickly on floors. In silent, mutual agreement, Fish and Crystal drank only from their canteens.

There was no apparent organization or layout - tunnels intersected, bent, opened up, closed off all seemingly at random. In some places they’d collapsed in on themselves, leaving a solid wall of dirt and rusted metal. In others, the gratings and walkways that led over pools of sickly-smelling “water” were missing, rusted, or simply too precarious to risk crossing. Each time they hit a dead end, they backtracked as best as they could and took another path.

The portals, Crystal explained, might be anywhere, and she had found no way to track or predict them. Hence the slow, methodical search - as methodical as they could be when every path looked about the same. Crystal appeared to have full confidence that they would eventually find either a portal or some other exit. The only thing that Fish felt any sort of confidence about was that she was bluffing, but the choices were to keep moving forward or wait around to die.

The echoes brought the scratching and squeaking to them long before they encountered the first rats. They were huge, red-eyed brutes, and fast, but easily enough dealt with in the narrow corridors. It took a toll, though, keeping alert for shapes coming out of the darkness as well as trying to track their position in the maze and watch for any sign of the elusive portals. Fish was the first to tire, leaning against the wall with a heavy sigh when a corridor they’d just cleared of rats had turned out to lead to another dead end. All they had to show for the effort was the moldering and unrecognizable corpse lying against the far wall. Without the sun overhead it was impossible to tell how long they’d been underground, but it felt like ages.

“I can’t go farther,” he said, wondering if Crystal would leave him behind and continue searching on her own. Her stamina seemed much greater than his. Her polished geometric body hadn’t so much as broken a sweat, so far, and she was still standing straight and tall. Maybe she’d regret agreeing to take him along at all.

Instead, though, she nodded. Held up a hand for him to wait, briefly retraced her steps, and came back with the corpse of a sewer rat in one hand. The best that could be said about it was that it looked like it had been alive up until it was shot. Some of the furry corpses they’d left behind, the ones with a greenish tint and their skin and fur alike sloughing off in clumps, almost zombie-like, couldn’t even claim that much.

“Enough for one day.” She sat and gestured for him to do the same. “What do you think, can we eat this?”

Fish eyed the corpse warily, fins flexing as he took in a mouthful of air to see if he could smell anything amiss over the general sewer miasma. “Maybe. Can’t cook, though. Nothing here that burns. Eat it raw?”

“Shouldn’t do that,” a deep, gurgling voice mumbled, somewhere nearby, its Trashtalk thick and slurred. Weapons came to hand almost immediately, in survival-honed reflex - Fish wasn’t sure where to aim, until what he had assumed was a corpse hauled itself, slowly, to its feet, hands raised in what was still a universal gesture of surrender.

The capricious and unchecked force of radiation had produced some real monstrosities, but this one was particularly upsetting, moreso for being so clearly formerly human. A pale, unsteady mass of flesh greeted them, its whole substance slowly bubbling and dripping, apparently only given any semblance of form by the skeleton it was draped loosely over. One empty eye socket, exposed and bare, stared back at them. The other was covered by a sagging mound of whatever jellylike substance the thing had been reduced to.

“Just warning you. Don’t eat those rats.” The figure heaved a painful-sounding sigh, its breath stirring the oozing flaps of skin that dangled over its throat. There didn’t seem to be a lower jaw there - that it could enunciate its Trashtalk at all was a surprise. “Put the guns down. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“ _You_ …” Crystal said, tightening her grip on the machine gun, “don’t want to hurt _us_?”

Another heartfelt, burbling exhale. One dripping arm shifted to point down the corridor, at the haphazardly scattered bodies of the rats they’d left behind. Fish kept his shotgun trained on the mutant, but couldn’t help briefly glancing in that direction - just long enough to see a corpse explode in a grisly shower of blood, the concussive force of the blow rattling the pipes around them. The extended finger, trembling slightly, lowered to point at the dead rat between Fish and Crystal’s feet.

Taking the hint, Fish lowered his weapon with exaggerated care, and after a moment Crystal did the same. “Thank you.” The stranger sagged, quite extensively. “I don’t want a fight. Throw the rat away. They’re all diseased - disgusting -” He attempted to spit and coughed instead, the heaving of his chest exposing portions of bare ribcage.

Crystal tossed the dead rat away down the corridor and moved closer, face creased with a slight frown, but the mutant waved her away, slumping into a vague heap that might have been a sitting position. “Call me Melting,” he mumbled.

“Crystal,” she replied, seating herself beside the shivering mound. “You live here?”

“Came through a portal. Can’t find the next.”

“I’m Fish,” he grunted, settling down where he could keep an eye on the corridor in case the explosions and voices attracted unwelcome attention. “What can we eat, if not rats?”

“The crocodiles are okay.”

“Any people live here?” Crystal asked.

“Crocodiles.” Melting’s face contorted into convoluted folds that suggested a grimace. “Standing up. Using guns.” After a moment of thought, he added, “Seen one other person, don’t know the name. Chased me out of their territory.”

“Would this person know about the portal?” Crystal was very still most of the time, no visible breathing or wasted movement, and the effect was eerily multiplied sitting beside Melting, who heaved and quivered gently with every breath.

“Don’t know.” Melting slumped further down. “I’ll take you there. It’ll be funny. But later.”

“Later?” Fish asked.

“I was sleeping.” Melting mumbled, curling into a nearly-formless mass and turning his head away. “So yes. Later.”

Fish caught Crystal’s eye and shrugged. It was the closest thing to a lead they had. Settling into a marginally more comfortable position against the wall (he wasn’t especially fond of the idea of lying down completely in this muck) he settled down to doze. Crystal stayed alert, a stiff, watchful sentinel peering into the darkness. Between the still-novel security of someone to keep watch and the endless drip of water in the distance, Fish managed to drift off, adding his deep snores to the sounds echoing through the sewers.


End file.
